him. Joe still has his lizard expression on and if he’s happy to see his son after so many years, he doesn’t show a glimpse of emotion. My mom, on the other hand, is beaming. If Andrew has noticed and recognized me already, he doesn’t betray himself.
“Andrew,” my mother squeals with exaggerated friendliness, “It’s so great to finally meet you! Joe’s been telling me all about you!”
She gets up from her seat and Andrew seems relieved she’s offering him an escape from the awkward situation. He grabs the opportunity and walks over to her side of the table.
“I hope you haven’t listened to all he had to say,” he says and accepts the hug my mom offers. “You look fantastic, Olivia. Better in person than in the papers. My dad is a lucky man.”
Creepy , I think, on many levels . Has he been stalking the family through the media? Is he finding my mom sexually attractive? I suppose my brain goes to creepland so it doesn’t have to deal with my own shitty circumstances.
Andrew looks even better than when he showed up unexpectedly at the book shop. He is wearing navy blue slacks and a matching cashmere sweater. The collar of the white shirt peeking from his V-neckline is perfectly ironed and his hair is tamed with just the right amount of wax. He looks like he’s stepped out of an expensive watch or perfume ad.
It’s Joe’s turn to stand and greet his son, though the interaction is much more reserved than what just happened with my mom. They barely hug and there’s space for at least one other person to sneak in between their bodies. Joe doesn’t smile and I’m not surprised, for the man doesn’t seem to know how to do it.
As they exchange their muttered greetings, I feel my palms starting to sweat. I know it’s my turn now and I wish I was three and could just hide under the table without anyone questioning my behavior. The two men part and I drop my eyes to the floor, feeling the rush of blood in my cheeks burn. I should have put on foundation, like seven layers of it. My almost transparent skin shows everything I’m not saying.
“And this is Jo,” my mom jumps in, “Your sister. I’m so glad Jo finally gets to meet her brother!”
Brother, sister. She’s throwing the words like punches that end up straight in my gut.
Andrew circles the table and is now towering over me. I can smell him. They say smells can bring back memories. Unfortunately it’s true and he’s wearing the same cologne he had on that night. A scene flashes before my eyes. My cheek is pressed against the cold tiles of a bathroom stall. Dim red lights. My face is contorted as I scream into his palm, the pressure of his thrusts pushing me into the wall.
“Great to meet you, Jo,” Andrew says and I see myself stretching out a hand for a handshake.
He is so good! What an actor. Not a single fiber betrays him. His face is all brotherly love and excitement. Even his eyes glint with watery sparkles and if I hadn’t had him inside me mere days ago, I admit, I would have been fooled, too. Mom and Joe certainly are. I can see my mother’s eyes tearing up and her hands clasped underneath her chin, as if she is watching the end of a romantic comedy.
Andrew ignores my hand and dives straight in for a proper hug. I stop breathing, so I don’t inhale any more of that poisonous cologne and only barely allow my fingers to touch his ripped back underneath the cashmere.
“Now that’s a twist, Cinderella,” he whispers in my ear and an involuntary shiver creeps through my body. I’m completely mute. I can’t think of a single thing to say and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll ruin his great job at covering up the fact that we know each other.
When it feels like we’ve been hugging for hours, he pulls away and looks at me, clutching my upper arms.
“I’m sure we’ll really get along,” he says and leaves my side of the table. He’s handling all this so well, I’m sure I’m not the first step-sibling
“Andrew,” my mother squeals with exaggerated friendliness, “It’s so great to finally meet you! Joe’s been telling me all about you!”
She gets up from her seat and Andrew seems relieved she’s offering him an escape from the awkward situation. He grabs the opportunity and walks over to her side of the table.
“I hope you haven’t listened to all he had to say,” he says and accepts the hug my mom offers. “You look fantastic, Olivia. Better in person than in the papers. My dad is a lucky man.”
Creepy , I think, on many levels . Has he been stalking the family through the media? Is he finding my mom sexually attractive? I suppose my brain goes to creepland so it doesn’t have to deal with my own shitty circumstances.
Andrew looks even better than when he showed up unexpectedly at the book shop. He is wearing navy blue slacks and a matching cashmere sweater. The collar of the white shirt peeking from his V-neckline is perfectly ironed and his hair is tamed with just the right amount of wax. He looks like he’s stepped out of an expensive watch or perfume ad.
It’s Joe’s turn to stand and greet his son, though the interaction is much more reserved than what just happened with my mom. They barely hug and there’s space for at least one other person to sneak in between their bodies. Joe doesn’t smile and I’m not surprised, for the man doesn’t seem to know how to do it.
As they exchange their muttered greetings, I feel my palms starting to sweat. I know it’s my turn now and I wish I was three and could just hide under the table without anyone questioning my behavior. The two men part and I drop my eyes to the floor, feeling the rush of blood in my cheeks burn. I should have put on foundation, like seven layers of it. My almost transparent skin shows everything I’m not saying.
“And this is Jo,” my mom jumps in, “Your sister. I’m so glad Jo finally gets to meet her brother!”
Brother, sister. She’s throwing the words like punches that end up straight in my gut.
Andrew circles the table and is now towering over me. I can smell him. They say smells can bring back memories. Unfortunately it’s true and he’s wearing the same cologne he had on that night. A scene flashes before my eyes. My cheek is pressed against the cold tiles of a bathroom stall. Dim red lights. My face is contorted as I scream into his palm, the pressure of his thrusts pushing me into the wall.
“Great to meet you, Jo,” Andrew says and I see myself stretching out a hand for a handshake.
He is so good! What an actor. Not a single fiber betrays him. His face is all brotherly love and excitement. Even his eyes glint with watery sparkles and if I hadn’t had him inside me mere days ago, I admit, I would have been fooled, too. Mom and Joe certainly are. I can see my mother’s eyes tearing up and her hands clasped underneath her chin, as if she is watching the end of a romantic comedy.
Andrew ignores my hand and dives straight in for a proper hug. I stop breathing, so I don’t inhale any more of that poisonous cologne and only barely allow my fingers to touch his ripped back underneath the cashmere.
“Now that’s a twist, Cinderella,” he whispers in my ear and an involuntary shiver creeps through my body. I’m completely mute. I can’t think of a single thing to say and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll ruin his great job at covering up the fact that we know each other.
When it feels like we’ve been hugging for hours, he pulls away and looks at me, clutching my upper arms.
“I’m sure we’ll really get along,” he says and leaves my side of the table. He’s handling all this so well, I’m sure I’m not the first step-sibling
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